Where will I be when I confront the darkthe stars have lived in for millennia?I’m no ascetic, I love what I callearthly paradise, the vegetable standbeside the road, I love to buy, devourseconds after purchase, peach juice on my chin,my sticky fingers unfit for anythingexcept delicious licentiousness,licking them clean, tonguing sweetness, myself.But to keep hungry, I need that waveringincertain doubt provides my stars at noon,the luminous I think I’m making upsome days. And other days I count on, countless.
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